


The Upstairs Bath

by ChibiPy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiPy/pseuds/ChibiPy
Summary: Harry Potter is fairly drunk at his friends engagement party, but well, so is everyone else.  How exactly did he land himself in the second floor bath in this situation?





	The Upstairs Bath

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Notes: This story contains a bit of party games and lots and lots of rimming. It has been several years since I've posted anything I've worked on. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling and associated publishers.

Harry wasn't quite sure how he got here. He was standing, more like leaning, in Hermione and Millicent's second floor bathroom. Arse cheeks spread open, his hands gripping the basin of the sink, a hot and slick tongue probing and swiping at his arsehole.

Well, actually he did.

Harry falls onto his elbows, forearms grip around the too fancy sink. His breath is hot with firewhisky, it sloshes in his empty belly as it presses back and forth into the sink at an awkward angle. Malfoy is all but holding him up, his grip is firm on his arse, spreading him open. His tongue is fucking his loosening arsehole with every flick and jab. Somehow Malfoy grip tightens, and he spreads him open even wider, his arse burns delightfully at the strain. Lips lock around his hole and suck in, it’s fucking filthy, Harry loves it. Then the hot probing tongue is going in again, somehow deeper.

Harry’s bad leg buckles, but it doesn’t matter, Draco has him steady in his hands. Making filthy noises with his mouth, moaning as if Harry’s arse is the most decadent treat he’s ever had.

“Malfoy, I-” A moan cuts off his train of thought, and he can’t continue. He just grips the sink more firmly and pushes his arse backwards towards Malfoy’s mouth, spreading his thighs as wide as he can without completely crumpling to the floor. Malfoy moans again taking his tongue out of Harry’s loose hole and licking slowly from the back of his balls up his crack.

“Tell me what you want, Potter.” Malfoy says as his tongue inches closer and closer to his spent hole. He needs this. He needs that tongue. He needs his cock.

“I n-need you!” Harry pants out, it’s almost a growl. Malfoy slowly sinks his tongue into his hole, along with a slender finger. He easily finds his prostate, and rubs it unrelenting. Potter moans, his leg gives completely out.

 “F-fuck me! I need you!”

 

  
Just a bit more than an hour ago, he was downstairs, having one of the dullest conversions with Neville about how poisonous exploding cacti were not ideal for centerpieces.

Yes, even if they were specially bred to be stripped the wedding colors. 

He knew he was going to see Malfoy eventually, he just would never be prepared. But there he is kissing both brides on the cheek as he arrives to the party. Malfoy is in his Malfoy-typical pressed fancy trousers, with his typical pristine fancy grey-blue button up. Everything as typical is tailored and hugs his tall, lean frame in the best way, showing off his toned muscle. He still has on his typical tailored jacket, and not so typical, a bit of out of character, maroon gloves on. His cheeks and tips of his ears are still a bit pink from the chilly January weather he’d just stepped in from. Grey eyes light up with mirth as he barks a laugh, hugging Millicent then Hermione, no doubt offering his congratulations.

Then Ron shows up, all but pushing Malfoy out of the way, barreling in to sweep Hermione into a dramatic hug with a spin. Malfoy rolls his eyes without feeling, there’s still amusement written on his face. He then scans the room, his eyes land on Harry’s stare, and they lock onto each other. Malfoy slowly takes off his odd gloves, never breaking eye contact, he places them into his jacket pocket, then one challenging blond eyebrow raises and Harry has to blink for fear of his eyes tearing.

Harry pulls himself together then looks back towards Neville, who apparently has been chattering away about different semi or completely deadly, or as he refers to them, “misunderstood” plants he plans to pitch to Hermione for her nuptials.

Harry couldn’t give less shits to be honest. Bring on the Fulminating Secreting Arum Maculatum. If it will get him out of this conversation he’s pro-whatever. He finds that his eyes want to flit around the room, looking for those blond raised eyebrows, but he refrains, attempting to actually seem interested instead of completely bored. Right now, he really could kill Hermione even attempting to get him to date Neville. But killing one of the future brides at her own engagement party was probably not the most polite thing to do. It was better to wait till a few days after, he thought.

“Nev, I’m uh, going to refresh my drink.” He states, giving up the poorly played ruse of interest. They both look down at his still sufficient amount of firewhisky on rocks, Neville says nothing. There’s an awkward beat, where Harry is tempted to word vomit, ‘Well, this was an obvious ploy to escape, huh?’ But manages to resist. Tipping his glass back, he takes a huge gulp, and almost chokes on the amount. It burns his throat and reaches up through his nostrils. He’d almost swear there was some smoke, but he is rather sauced and his eyes are watering. 

Malfoy is standing close to their bar, it is a charmed tray with a variety of drinks. Harry tries to nonchalantly walk over, but ends up looking much more like he learned how to walk this week instead. He swings his arms a bit too much, then not enough, taking weirdly long steps that are too slow. Malfoy gives him an amused smirk over his own firewhisky, neat he notes.

“Already had a few?” Malfoy says, his tone is very casual and posh, if that’s somehow possible? Only Malfoy could make that possible.

“Just a couple, I helped set up.” Harry pauses, grabbing a firewhisky on the rocks, as soon as it clears the tray a fresh one appears. “That means I watched Hermione set up and just drank with Millie on the sofa.” He sips his cocktail to stop from chattering on, marveling at how perfect the drink is. It’s impressive charm work, the ice never starts melting until the drink is taken away, but somehow they’re all the perfect temperature.

Malfoy looks at him, his head is slightly tilted to the left side. His hair is to about his chin in length, blonde fringe falls over his right eye, he expertly flicks his head, all hair falls perfectly over his face, out of his eyes. His features are still pointy, but somehow now, at thirty, don’t seem so sharp.

“Well, Potter?” Malfoy drawls, his expression is smug and mischievous. It takes Harry more than a moment to realize he hasn't been paying attention to whatever Malfoy had been saying. Maybe he has had a glass or three too many. For a long moment there is silence, broken only by the sound of melting ice clinking in Harry’s glass.

“Uh, can you repeat that?” Harry fumbles. Malfoy is the reason he usually comes to these events insanely early and leaves early. Malfoy is usually on the late side, his financial job keeps him at the office for long hours. Sometimes he even has to send an owl with regrets of not being able to make events at the last minute. But it’s a Saturday and the market is closed and Harry has stayed too long and is too drunk.

“I had asked how being retired feels, and what you were doing with your free time now.” Malfoy’s words are slower, he lingers on the s’s a bit longer, pausing between some words with feeling. 

“Well, I was forced to retire after... well, you know, the leg injury.” Harry shifts his weight from his good leg to his bad one, he knee buckles a bit and he quickly shifts back to his left leg. He forgot he hadn’t seen Malfoy since the incident. He supposes he’s seen a lot less people after it, actually. 

“I do read the papers, Potter. I’m not a hermit.” Harry inhales, he knows it’s not a jab, he knows he can’t know. He knows there’s no way Malfoy would know almost everyday he just stays in, sleeping, listening to quidditch, playing gameboy, wanking.

Hermione had told him he was depressed.

“Uhm well, I’ve been trying to get my house into better shape.” Harry licks his lips, the taste of firewhisky lingers on them. “I’ve been trying my hand with renovating Number 12, you can imagine the shape your great aunt left it in.” Harry forces a laugh, “But I can’t really get around the best some days.”

Malfoy frowns, a crease forms in between his eyebrows. “Do you need to sit down?”

Harry startles, his breath catches, “No!” He clears his throat, “Seriously, no need. I’ve got my liquid pain potion.” He lamely jokes raising and shaking his glass, forcing himself to smile. The ice clinks, as Malfoy studies him for a moment. Harry frowns then looks down at his firewhisky glass.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” Malfoy says his tone has changed, it’s almost a whisper, it almost sounds caring. “With me at least.” Harry’s breath catches, he’s too drunk, there’s no way. He doesn’t look up. He can’t look up.

“Uh, yeah, it’s been fine, really. I’ve just been lazing about, got pretty far in Pokemon.” Harry stops himself, then tips his drink into his mouth, pointedly not looking at Malfoy. Instead he turns to the rest of the party, tensely standing.

“What is this Pokemon?” Malfoy trips a bit on the word, but Harry almost chokes on his drink at the idea of Malfoy playing Gameboy. Explaining Pokemon and what a Gameboy is to Malfoy is not high on his priorities, or really ever going to happen.

“Forget it.” Harry states, he chances a brief glance at the blond, who seems to be in deep thought.

“My condolences on your injury, are you still able to ride your motorbike?” Harry almost falls over, and sputters in response incoherently. What’s with this line questioning? What is he secretly a Medi-Wizard? Financial pointy bastard by day, super pointy healer at night?

That’d require more of a heart though.

“No, I can’t.” Harry bites out, then mutters under his breath, “Thanks for reminding me.” There’s a pause, he can’t help but huff a frustrated breath, this is the reason he hasn’t left his house. He can’t get away from all the questions and concerns. Those bloody pitying eyes. “Can we talk about literally anything else.” There’s another pause, “Maybe I’ll just-” Harry points at the door.

“All I was trying to get at, Potter, is if you want to go for a ride sometime, I can take you on the back of mine.” Malfoy says quickly, he half crosses his left arm over his chest, it is a defensive gesture. Harry has seen him do it before, like he’s trying to further hide the mark that’s covered under long sleeves. His other hand is outstretched, holding his nearly depleted cocktail, he then takes a slow sip from his drink in one hand, his other is tapping the outside of his bicep. Each finger taps individually 4 times before moving to the next one, once he’s tapped with his pinky he moves back to his pointer. Harry can almost hear the counting in Malfoy’s head, as he methodically, and compulsively, taps. Harry counts almost up to 40 before Malfoy breaks the silence, “Although, it doesn't fly like your late Godfather’s.” Malfoy knocks his shoulder lightly into Harry’s. They’re standing much closer than Harry had thought they were. His anger fades at the thought of being able to ride again. Neither man moves away, their shoulders are still pressed together, sharing warmth. Harry realizes the shoulder is supporting some of his weight off his right leg.

“I would like to, actually.” Harry surprises himself by saying, honestly. Has to be the firewhisky. “I could even, I don’t know, show you mine sometime.” Harry can feel his face flush slightly at the innuendo, and stutters, “I-I mean maybe we could fly mine?” Harry fiddles with the hem of his green shirt, he really should've dressed up. Instead he’s in a green t-shirt with a black zip up hoodie. He thinks at least he’s in black jeans as opposed to his usual torn and worn in blue jeans. 

“I’d be up for anything, Potter.” Malfoy refreshes both their drinks, then places his shoulder back into places, pressing into Harry’s.

They stand there for a long while in silence, taking in the rest of the party, occasionally taking swigs of their drinks.

Harry’s mind wanders a bit to Draco’s entrance, his face shouldn't have been that pink from just apparating. He should’ve looked as pale as he does now. And those weird maroon gloves, Harry pauses not breathing.

“Surely, you didn't drive it here tonight? Surely?” Harry blurts out. “It’s nearly snowing.” He steps away from Malfoy to be able to careen his neck to look at him.

The tips of Malfoy’s ears turn a bit pink, he hides his face with his glass, Harry could swear his cheeks were pink too. “I uh- thought maybe a few warming charms would do the trick.”

“Did they?” Harry is surprised when Malfoy laughs outright for a second.

“No, I nearly froze my hands to the handlebars and my bits to the seat.” Malfoy jokes, turning his face towards Harry. The left side of his mouth is curled in an almost smile, those grey eyes alive with mirth, but the tips of his ears are still a bit pink.

“I hope both, your hands and bits, have had a full recovery.” He settles back in against Malfoy’s shoulder, his knee has started to hurt fiercely despite the alcohol and actual pain potions he’s on.

Malfoy makes a small almost inaudible noise that almost sounds like a small moan. His lip twitches as if he almost wants to say something, the tips of his ears go even darker pink.

“What?” Harry asks, somewhat faking indignation. “Just say whatever awful thing you want to, don’t sugar coat it on my hobbled regard.”

Malfoy visibly flushes at being called out, his composure breaking completely, “I-I uh… really don’t think-”

“Just say it Malfoy, or are you too scared?” Harry goads him lightly, grinning brightly.

“You could inspect them, Potter.” Malfoy grits through his teeth, then holds out his left hand. Harry places his drink on the floor then reaches out and grasps Malfoy’s left forearm. He winces and almost topples Harry over with his effort to snap his forearm from his hands. 

“I’m sorry- I didn't- I wasn't-” Harry sputters, still holding the blond’s arm, unable to let go or he’ll fall over. He knows it’s because his hand is over where the Dark Mark is. Malfoy does a quick wandless charm and his drink hovers in mid air beside him. He then reaches over and steadies Harry.

“Let’s sit down, I’m a bit tipsy.” Malfoy says, even though he’s the only thing keeping Harry from colliding to the ground. Malfoy summons Harry’s glass off the floor, and both drinks trail behind them, Harry leans on Malfoy a bit too much. But between the booze and the leg. And the fact that Malfoy smells amazingly of citrus, spice, and firewhisky. He’s fucked.

They sit next to each other on a brown leather sofa, settling in with their legs and knees almost pressed together. Ron shortly afterwards is pulling Padma into a matching brown chair off to the left side of the couch. He then sits at her feet on the floor.

“How’s the leg doing, mate?”

“Barely holding up after this much booze and standing, I’m afraid.” Harry says, then leans as far back into the chair as possible, hoping it swallows him up. Maybe if he concentrates…

“Perhaps we can play a game, is everyone here?” Hermione sits down next to Harry on his left side, “Can you scooch a little for Millie?” Harry obliges and all but ends up in Malfoy’s lap.

Everyone begins to file in, Zabini sits in the other chair, Pansy perches on the arm rest. Neville and Seamus sit on the floor along with a couple of coworkers Harry has met before, but can't remember their names. Millie then walks in and sits down on the sofa.

“Spin the bottle?” Millie asks, brandishing her wand and shrinking the coffee table down.

“What are we 14?” Malfoy draws from his corner of the couch, he leans forward as he speaks, shoulder brushing against Harry. “I’m pretty sure the mean age of all these guests is 32.” He then leans back, crossing his right leg over his left, his foot caresses Harry’s bad leg. Harry looks down and sees that Malfoy is wearing the most ridiculous bright blue socks, they have dark blue polka-dots all over them.

“Well, me and ‘Mione met over some party games in eight year, so we have to play something.” Millicent states as if it's obvious, rolling her eyes at Malfoy. She has a transfigured bottle already in her hands.

“Well, I vote nothing that means I'll have to sit on the floor.” Harry chimes in, “I’m going to play my bad knee card again tonight.”

“You already played that to get out of decorating.” Hermione says, sipping her drink innocently.

“What about a game of never have I ever?” Ron asks from his place on the floor. He looks over at Malfoy who throws his hands up as if to say don’t look at me. Everyone seems to grudgingly agree to this.

There’s a bang from behind them and Dean’s voice bursts through, “Are we too late? Who goes first?”

Ginny and Dean are taking off their coats, putting them on the already too full coat rack at the front. Dean is wearing a maroon sweater with grey stitching, he’s in black pants and immediately rips off his dress shoes. Hermione has a strict no shoe policy. Ginny rolls her eyes and has one hand on her very pregnant belly. Hermione jumps up conjuring two more chairs out of thin air for them to sit on. She levitates them in between Neville and her coworkers on the floor.

“Oy! Why didn't you do that for me!” Ron bellows from his spot on the floor.

“Ronald.” Hermione chastises. Before throwing herself back into the couch, jostling Harry into Malfoy’s lap. Harry squishes somehow even closer to Malfoy who is all but running his foot up and down his legs. “Dean you know the rules, you asked so it's you first.”

Dean hands Ginny a glass of sparkling water, then sits down in the empty chair, he takes a large gulp then proclaims, “Never have I ever eaten snails.”

A couple groans filter around the room as people drink, Malfoy under his breath says “Uncultured.” Harry is the only one that can hear him.

They move around the room, and at each turn Malfoy is making comments just for Harry. When Pansy had specifically said she had never been to Cairo, making Blaise drink, Malfoy had told him quietly that Pansy had missed the trip to go to his family's party. Only Blaise never showed because he went abroad, and she still doesnt let him live it down 10 years later. Finally they land on Malfoy, who poshly ponders. 

“Just go already you sneaky sod!” Pansy yells from to his right, sloshing her drink as she topples over from the armrest into Blaise’s lap.

“Never have I ever,” he pauses, still rubbing his foot against Harry’s leg, “masturbated in the school showers.”

 There’s a collective beat of silence followed by shouting and laughter. Harry feels his face grow hot, lucky that his darker skin won’t show too much of his rosey cheeks. Ron is slapping the floor with mirth and takes a huge gulp of his drink.

“Never have I ever wanked at school in bed.” Harry retorts, staring at Malfoy as the tips of his ears turn pink. Everyone is laughing again, even the left out coworkers are laughing. Malfoy playfully reaches out and pushes Harry’s head slightly away from his, playfully as he tips his glass back. Harry feels the warmth from his fingers still on his hairline even after they're removed.

They get around the room once then twice and make it all the way back to Ron when he declares, “I’m sorry, mate!” He looks at Harry, a grin plays on his features, “Never have I ever… given a blow job.”

Pansy looks at Blaise scandalized as he drinks from his own firewhisky with a shrug. “I was experimenting.” He tells her.

Draco to no one's surprise tips back the rest of his glass, summoning another from the bar cart without needing to get up. The empty glass vanishes from his hand. Harry then sips his somewhat trying to be discreet, but failing to be as Malfoy looks at him, his pink lips form an o shape in surprise.

“Potter, I had no idea.” His foot trails higher, his polka-dotted socked toe almost reaches Harry’s knee.

Then Padma clears her throat and says “Never have I ever had sex at a friends party.” She gives a pointed glare to Blaise and Pansy, who at last new years had been caught in their pantry.

“To be fair it was our party.” Pansy dawls, still lazily spawled in Blaise’s lap. Her black bob is askew, only showing how drunk she must be to not be properly pressed.

“Well, that’s an idea.” Harry mutters, only loud enough for Malfoy. Who turns his head slowly in Harry’s direction with one eyebrow raise.

“Is it now, Potter?” Malfoy’s ears are red again, his eyes are a bit darker, more dilated. They do another full round, then another. And now Hermione is chattering away, and the game has all but dissipated to people talking amongst themselves. 

Harry is far too pissed for this. “I have to tap out, or I’m going to pass out.” He states, getting up and almost falling back over onto Malfoy. One strong pale hand reaches up and grabs his waist, the other is placed on Harry’s lower back to steady him. “Fuck I forgot my present up stairs.”

“Let me help.” Malfoy says while standing, his hand is still on Harry’s waist. Harry wonders what it would feel like to have both hands on his waist and to be fucked into.

Harry fumbles up the stairs, between all of the firewhisky and the fact that he’s still new to his injury he almost falls down the stairs multiple times when he tries to walk up them normally. Malfoy is there behind him to press a warm secure hand on the small of his back. Harry can only take each step one at a time, bringing his bad leg to the same stair as his good one. It takes a while but when he’s finally at the top Harry pauses. Malfoy steps in front of him, grabbing his hand and leading him down the hall.

Harry is pulled into a room, his eyes flick around and he realizes he’s in the bathroom. “Malfoy my present is in-” he’s cut off as lips roughly descend on his. They are warm, and soft, and _yes._ Malfoy's hands cradle his face, his fingers are smooth and chilly against his stubbled face. Harry opens his mouth in surprise, Malfoy swipes his tongue around his open lips, before pressing in. He smells and tastes of firewhisky, Harry grips onto Malfoy’s sides roughly. He kisses him back, touching his tongue tentatively to Malfoy's, before a moan escapes one of them, he isn't sure who.

Malfoy pulls back, he looks at Harry, closer than he has ever looked before. Harry can see each individual pale eyelash, they are long and almost transparent, but up close they seem elegant. He has very slight wrinkles in between his eyebrows, probably brought on by too much stress. The grey irises are so steely and flat in color, but there are tiny flecks of light blue nestled in close around his pupil.

They're the most beautiful eyes Harry has ever seen.

“I want to make you come while I eat your arsehole.” Malfoy says, breaking Harry’s thoughts as his warm breath reaches Harry’s face. His throat hitches, he hadn't been expecting that admission.

“Yes.” Harry breathes out, he pulls Malfoy in against him, crashing his lips into his, their teeth clang together, it hurts, but their tongues find each others and it doesn't matter. This matters. A roar of laughter makes its way to the second floor. Harry lifts his right hand and casts a wandless locking and silencing charm on the door. He then is back against Malfoy.

Malfoy has his hands tangled in his hair, he pulls him towards him, Harry fumbles with the buttons on Malfoy’s shirt. He gives up and throws his hand against the buttons in what he hopes is a delicate unbuttoning spell, but the buttons instead fly off and he’s pretty sure he’s ripped the shirt. 

Neither cares, especially not when Harry’s chilled hands touch Malfoy’s pale chest and stomach. The skin is hot, so hot, and smooth save the raised scarred skin. Harry pulls his head away and sees the white raised scarred flesh from their past, Malfoy growls and pulls him towards him again.

“It was-” Malfoy starts in between kisses, he moves over to Harry’s ear, “a long time ago.” His breath is hot and desire washes over Harry. Then he licks the crease on the top of his ear. Harry almost crashes to the ground as he moans and his leg gives way. He shuts his eyes hard and braces for impact, but instead feels strong hands again around his waist, holding him up. Slowly he opens his left eye first, seeing an amused smirk playing on Malfoy’s lips.

“I’ve got you.” Malfoy says, the meaning seems deeper.

Harry opens his right eye then in a flash Harry is peeling off his zip up hoodie. He has to be naked now. He needs to see this man naked. He needs to see his dark skinned hand gripping against Malfoy’s bare hip bones. He pushes the open shirt off of Malfoy’s shoulders, pulling at the sleeves. Malfoy seems hesitant for only a half-second, but gives in as Harry latches himself onto one pale collar bone. He then clumsily unloops Malfoy’s belt, quickly undoing the fly and top button. The trousers bunch up around Malfoy’s ankles, he steps out of them.

Malfoy is in blue boxer briefs, his erection is imprinted against the fabric. Harry wants, no needs, to feel that erection against his face, his lips.

“Fuck Malfoy, I-” he loses his words, and pulls at the band and the pink head peeks out, it’s already leaking. “Let me… I need…” he pulls down the underwear, just enough so Malfoy’s cock bobs out free. Malfoy is nearly hairless, his pale skin has ever the smallest most translucent whisper of blond hair trailing from below his belly button to the base of his cock. Harry reaches out and touches the hair, it’s soft. He follows it down and then grips Malfoy’s cock, it’s pale and pink and beautiful. It’s longer but thinner than his own, and the skin is so soft. A growl escapes from Malfoy’s throat as Harry lazily strokes his cock, they’re staring into each other's eyes, the only movement is the tanned hand between them. Harry then lets go of the pale cock, and pulls those blue pants back up.

“Bloody tease.” Pale hands undo his fly, and he chuckles as he sees Harry’s red snitch boxers. “Really Potter?” Even his teasing drawl is sexy.

Why today had he chosen these awful pants out of all of them. But then Malfoy reaches forward and pulls at the tenting, griping Harry’s cock through the material. They both moan, Malfoy tugs at his black jeans, pulling them down, getting tangled in Harry’s legs. Malfoy presses forward, his hands back on Harry’s hips, steadying him. Their erections grind together. It feels amazing, but at the same time isn’t enough.

“Potter,” Malfoy growls out, his cock has leaked a dark spot through his boxer briefs. “I want to taste you.” he trails off, grabbing Harry’s arse for emphasis.

“Please.” Harry pants, kissing a line down from Malfoy's mouth, licking his collarbone, then untagles his fingers from blond hair. Harry is easily 6 inches shorter than Malfoy, he bites the flesh of his upper chest. His jeans are still tangled at his knees. Malfoy seems to know what he wants because he’s soon lifting Harry up slightly, guiding him to turn around, pressing him against the sink.

Harry look at himself in the mirror, he still had on his t-shirt, but his hair was a mess. Behind him he could see Malfoy’s blond hair, grey eyes, the rest of his face was covered by Harry’s shoulder. Pale arms reached up under his shirt, caressing his nipple, the other splays against his stomach, touching the dark trail of hair. Malfoy raises his mouth so that pink lips graze against his right ear, Harry can’t help but stare.

“I’m going to fuck you open.” Malfoy states staring into Harry’s eyes in the mirror, his hand trails down from his stomach, then grips his boxers. He pulls them down then his head descends downwards, eyes locked onto Harry’s until he can’t see him anymore.

Harry feels his arse being spread. There’s a tentative tongue lingering at the top of his crack. Harry tries to spread his legs in anticipation, but his tangled jeans prevent him. Malfoy licks a line from the top all the way down to the back of Harry’s balls, just ghosting over Harry’s puckered hole. He then licks a line up and pauses just before the hole. He lingers there, driving Harry insane.

“Fuck me, Malfoy.” Harry moans, trying to move his arse so the tongue will move upward. Malfoy chuckles then gives in to Harry’s plea, swiping his tongue upwards. It feels electric and it’s exactly what Harry has never realized he wanted. The tongue is soft and wide as it licks over and over again, against the outside of Harry’s anus. Malfoy’s breath is hot against his crack, and he breathes in the scent of musk that is Harry.

Harry rutts back against him, wanting more, wanting that tongue inside him. But Malfoy continues to tease him, stroking his tongue broadly over his tight entrance. He swirls around it, but makes no move to press it forward. Harry is panting, and he thinks he’s pleading with Malfoy, but he can't be sure what he’s saying.

“Merlin, you're gagging for me, Potter.” Malfoy drawls, breath huffing out against Harry’s hole. He continues licking his hole in slow methodic swipes up, and to the side, as if it was an ice cream cone.

Malfoy inhales deeply through his nose and makes an audible moan, before making his tongue pointy and flicking it upward against Harry’s rim. It catches a bit, and almost feels like it wants to go in. They both groan. Malfoy then swirls his tongue in big circles, making them smaller and smaller, until he presses the tip of his tongue inside. Harry inhales a deep breath, and presses his arse back towards Malfoy’s tongue.

Malfoy doesn’t relent, he starts fucking Harry’s hole open, breath becoming ragged as he pushes in deeper, and deeper. Holding Harry’s arse cheeks open, straining his neck to get any further inside. He slurps, retracting his tongue and sucking on the loosening pucker. Harry has no idea what he’s saying, he just doesn’t want Malfoy to stop.

Harry falls onto his elbows, forearms grip around the sink, he breathes in hot, heavy, panting breaths that smell of firewhisky. Malfoy’s grip tightens on his arse, spreading him even wider, he can feel his arse cheeks and hole burn at the stretch. Malfoy’s lips form a seal around his hole and he sucks in, the filthy sounds vibrate around the room, as they groan for each other. Harry’s leg gives way, but it just cause Malfoy to hold him up, spreading him even further, reaching his tongue out to probe as deep as possible.

“Malfoy, I-” The tongue inside his arse swirls and jabs inside him. He moans again, he can’t continue, and spreads his legs wider, trying to fuck back on Malfoy’s tongue. Malfoy withdraws his tongue, sliding it once more from back of his balls slowly to his spent hole.

“Tell me what you want, Potter.” Malfoy says, his breath is hot against the wet pucker. Harry needs him, he needs any part of Malfoy inside him.

“I n-need you!” Harry growls out, voice breathy. Malfoy pauses only for a moment, Harry holds his breath and then Malfoy’s tongue is back inside in, sided up with his long thin index finger. The finger finds his prostate and unrelentingly strokes the spot over and over. Harry’s leg gives out with a moan, Malfoy’s finger fully impales into his arse. He clings onto the sink, knuckles white around the basin.

“F-fuck me! I need you!” Harry cries out, not sure if it was intelligible. The finger on his prostate becomes two and Harry is so far gone, the tongue is still fluttering over and inside his hole. He knows he’s going to cum soon.

“Just fuck me, Draco!” The fingers still, the tongue pulls back. There’s a moment of silence except for pating, “Please.” Harry begs, he can feel Draco’s breathing up his crack and against his hole.

Draco’s fingers disappear, Harry is left feeling empty, but then he hears the murmur of a lubrication charm an it hits him, Draco Malfoy is going to fuck him in Hermione’s upstairs bathroom.

And he fucking _wants_ it.

The blunt pink head of Draco’s cock slips between Harry’s arse cheeks, his own saliva making Harry’s hole so slick and open for him. Draco starts to push in, his head pops into the tight hole, he pauses to let Harry adjust, but he wants more now. Harry stares at Draco’s blond hair in the mirror, he pushes his hips back, fucking himself down on Draco’s cock until it’s fully inside. 

Green eyes meet Grey in the mirror, and Draco slips his hands up Harry’s stomach, he’s still wearing his stupid green tshirt. Draco bunches it up and he slides his hands up so that he’s holding onto Harry’s chest. He starts thrusting in and out of Harry’s hole, his eyes still boring into Harry’s. One pale hand goes down to stroke Harry’s leaking cock.

“I can’t last.” Harry warns. He wants Draco to fuck him forever, but he needs release. He’s so far gone he needs it.

Draco adjusts the angle slightly so he’s fucking Harry’s prostate with every thrust. Harry cries out, unable to hold himself up anymore he breaks the gaze and withers in pleasure. 

“Look at me.” Draco orders, his rhythm has not slowed, his cock is pounding into Harry at the perfect speed and position. “Look _at_ me.” Draco demands again, Harry’s eyes flick to him, his orgasm builds, he can’t look away, he can’t not come. One, two more tugs and Harry is cumming into Draco’s fist, all over Hermione’s sink and bathroom floor. Harry’s hole clenches and tightens with his orgasm, and Draco grunts pushing in as deep as he can, maintaining eye contact as Harry feels his warm spunk painting his hole.

They stand there for several minutes, Draco still inside Harry, his dick softening slowly. They look at eachother, catching their breath in the mirror. Draco’s one hand is still wrapped around his chest, their skin on skin contact is warm, and damp from sweat. There’s nothing really to be said to one another. What are they to do next? Draco pulls out and steps away, Harry sits down on the edge of the tub to catch his breath. Draco is summoning the buttons from his shirt, then laughs a bit as he pulls on his very torn blue button up. Harry sees that Draco is still in his stupid blue polkadot socks. He was fucked by Draco Malfoy in those silly socks.

For some reason this makes Harry want him all over again. 

“Back to mine?” Harry hears himself saying, awkwardness immediately palpable. His spent hole is red and aching, he can feel Draco’s cum dripping out from between his cheeks onto the bathtub side. They both get dressed again, the bathroom smells of sex, sweat, and cum.

“Uh, I can mend things?” More word vomit great. Exactly what one wants to hear from the guy who's got your cum leaking from his arsehole.

“Let’s apparate there, I have no desire for an infamous Granger lecture on safe sex.” Draco says, turning around and giving him a lopsided grin he’s never seen before, Harry feels his heart beat a bit faster, then nods in agreement. “We can abandon our shoes and coats until the morning.” Draco reaches out his pale hand, Harry looks at it, Draco raises one pale blond eyebrow in response. Harry takes it rolling his eyes dramatically, as Draco lifts Harry up to him, then kisses him with his filthy mouth.

  



End file.
